


take me back (to the night we met)

by abyssith



Category: Beyonders Series - Brandon Mull
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memories, Mentioned/Implied Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssith/pseuds/abyssith
Summary: Jason never got to say goodbye.





	take me back (to the night we met)

**Author's Note:**

> why did i write for this pair  
> (personal AU where jason is either fresh out of high school or a freshman in college and ferrin is at an age that would correspond with humans in their mid-20s) (because fuck the canon age for jason miss me with that "and he's in eighth grade" shit)

Jason shuffles along, exhaustion and weariness invading every step. He wants nothing more than to get back home—supposing, of course, that the information he gleaned about Maldor’s fortress somehow saved all of Lyrian. And should that be the case, then where _is_ home?

Trensicourt?

Caberton?

Mianamon? 

Jason no longer knows.

He listens to the low, rumbling breathing of Aram to his right as the half-giant tries to hide his fatigue. Corinne is a little less subtle about it, with her steps coming less daintily and her body swaying to the side. A quick glance shows Jason that the young woman’s eyes are beginning to droop.

Jason manages to smile, but it is devoid of emotion. He knows he should be pleased—no, overjoyed—that he may have just rescued an entire world. Better yet, he’s still alive, and so are Corinne and Aram. But what of everyone else who many not be as greatly blessed as Jason? The Mianamon oracle made a very clear, very distinct point that not everyone will survive. Because of that, Jason’s mind keeps flicking to a particular man with a mischievous smirk. Ferrin.

The name is so tender. So painful to touch upon. Jason is almost afraid to investigate that part of his mind because the word is like a fresh burn festering in his subconscious that will flare to life and inflict fresh pain upon him if he should initiate contact with it. And yet he must.

Dawn starts to crest the horizon in the form of a periwinkle sky and cool, crisp air begins to tug on the strands of Jason’s hair. He breathes in shakily, deeply, and tries to push his old friend out of his mind. He tries to think about Aram and how funny it still is whenever the huge man shrinks in the morning. Normally that cheers him up, but all it does now is cause Jason to recall Ferrin’s own sick glee over the hilarious transformation.

Jason isn’t sure what he wants, but he feels as if he desires an answer. A certainty of the matter. Anything, because he can’t possibly wait until they rendezvous with Rachel’s team—or whatever’s left of them—to see if the displacer is still alive.

In the dreariness and desperation of the present, Jason doesn’t remember the ear in his pocket until it decides to remind him.

He is wrenched out of his own agonizing silence when his thigh begins to feel damp and sticky. Wrinkling his nose, Jason pauses and furrows his brow as he looks down at his pant pocket.

His friends notice his hesitation, and Corinne calls, “Is everything alright? Shall we take a break?”

“No, it’s just…” Jason’s voice trails off absently as he slowly reaches into his pocket, grimacing because he’s not sure he wants to know what’s making his leg feel so revolting. But any ounce of disgust vanishes when his fingers brush against cold, curved cartilage that freezes his blood in an instant. Two words escape his mouth in a gasp so quiet, it’s almost inaudible.

“Oh, no.”

Still moving gingerly so as to not do any more damage to the ear than Jason already immediately knows has been done, he is able to work the appendage out without bruising it. His hands tremble violently as he drops to his knees. He moves the ear into his line of vision, scarcely seeing it through the cloudy blur smearing across his eyes. Corinne and Aram near him to look as well.

The half-giant lets out a little mournful sigh as Corinne’s hands fly to her mouth. A sharp exhale escapes her before she whispers, “Oh—Ferrin, no…he can’t possibly have…”

The blood trickling out of the ear pools in the curves and contours of Jason’s palms. It begins to drip down the narrow gaps between his fingers as the young man stares at the ear numbly. His throat dries up, as he can’t seem to close his mouth. A horror unlike anything he’s ever known begins to creep up his spine, and it’s almost as if the coldness and stiffness of the ear begins to seep into Jason’s own body. He can’t feel the faint thumping of his heart or the nerves in his fingers and toes.

He’s so cold.

A long, choked cry bursts from his lips as Jason bows his head, chest shuddering as his lungs struggle to find the will to fill with air. He tastes wet salt on his tongue and Jason almost drops the ear as he battles the urge to wipe away the burning flood pouring down his cheeks. Corinne and Aram stand there solemnly, silently watching him cry without reproach. Should Jason look up, he would notice Corinne sniffing quietly and quickly rubbing tears away before they reach her chin. He might even catch Aram staring at him with a moist glitter set in his eyes.

But Jason doesn’t look up. He can only look at the ear sitting in his hands as he sobs wildly, because maybe if he cries loud enough Ferrin will come back. Maybe if enough of his tears hit the dirt under his legs, the ground will absorb his sadness and spit it back out in the form of the displacer. Maybe if his heart constricts enough and he wills Ferrin to appear before him with every inch of his shattering soul and weary body, the man’s familiar hands will clasp Jason’s while he squats beside him whispering that everything is okay and that he is okay and they will always be okay. Maybe, if Jason is lucky, Ferrin might even thumb a tear away.

And yet no one comes to dry his face.

Jason remains kneeling where he is. His body shakes so hard it feels like he might fall apart. He screams and cries out, unable to feel shame anymore. He’s vaguely aware of slim arms hesitantly circling his biceps and two huge, calloused hands resting on his shoulders. Jason wants to thank them, he does, but the only instructions his mind demands are to senselessly repeat Ferrin’s name over and over again. Soon enough, his voice runs hoarse and wretched with the weight of his despair. 

It’s almost ironic how much the displacer meant to him. Still means to him. Over the span of time they spent in the jungle, the two unbearably short seasons that passed in Mianamon, Jason and Ferrin grew much closer than before. They spoke. They joked. They sparred. They taught. Stories were exchanged and childish pranks sprung from their hands. Sometime along the line, a potent need for each other developed and resided in every bit of their twin hearts. A need that became a desire that soon blossomed into a fierce affection. And that affection, that _love,_ is what landed them next to each other one night much too close together. It is what guided Ferrin’s hands to Jason’s face and pulled their lips together for the first time.

It was short but bittersweet, and though it lasted barely twenty short seconds Jason remembers every little detail. He remembers the humidity clinging to his clothes and the darkness that shielded them from any eye that may have been seeking to intrude. He remembers peeking during the kiss and seeing the moonlight wash Ferrin’s face in an angelic white, filling out the grooves and bumps and making his features look rich in complexion. He recalls greedily soaking up Ferrin’s very essence in the scarce time they were allowed, basking in the way Ferrin combed his fingers through Jason’s blond hair and protectively cupped his other hand in the small of Jason’s back. He remembers loving every moment of it.

They had snuck out of the temple that night, hoping to get some time together without any witnesses. It was near the end of their months together and Jason knew he had to brave what came next without Ferrin. The kiss was the lovechild of their growing interest and newfound yearning for each other, but it burnt out far too quickly. It was not nearly enough to satisfy what they wanted.

Now, though, facing the reality of Ferrin’s death, Jason will gladly give anything to get the chance to back in time and make that kiss feel like an eternity.

Through the nostalgia and delirium Jason feels someone cupping his face with soft hands. For a second, when he looks up, he thinks he sees Ferrin’s eyes boring into his. He reminisces on how stunning and beautiful they were, as if someone had captured a snapshot of the sky in twilight and used it to paint the man’s irises.

But it is only Corinne in front of him, smiling weakly. “Jason,” she whispers. “Hey. Hey, it’ll be alright. Please trust me.”

“How?” Jason chokes out through shallow pants. “Corinne, how—how is this—how is _this_ alright?” He practically shoves the ear into her chest in the rush of adrenaline that soaks his skin in a cold sweat.

Corinne cautiously rests her palm on the ear and wraps the edges of her fingers around the sides of Jason’s hand. She fights against her own tears as she says firmly, “He saved us. You must believe that. He saved us, Jason—he saved _you._ Do you understand?”

“I know,” Jason sobs. “I know he did.”

“Then celebrate his life. And celebrate what he has done.” Corinne’s voice breaks and she abandons whatever she meant to add to instead pull Jason into a hug. Into his ear she whispers, “He did it for you.”

Jason cries as he sags into her, trying to embrace her with one arm. He involuntarily begins to compare her slim figure to the muscled, lean but well-filled build of Ferrin. While her arms are thin and her fingers curl into his shirt, Ferrin’s strong and sturdy arms always made Jason feel completely secured. His palms always lied flat against Jason’s back and on some occasions, he would press Jason’s head against his chest in a way that always made Jason want to tug the older man even closer. Corinne’s embrace translates all of her sympathy and assurance to him, but Ferrin’s embrace was always strong and confident and capable of providing Jason a safe haven that he could run to. No matter where they were.

And he hopes Ferrin is safe, no matter where he is now.

Aram’s heavy form seals the hug a few seconds later, and the two Lyrians hold the agitated hero until the tears finally begin to ebb. Jason is the first to draw away, sniffing and furiously wiping his eyes. He can barely force out the words, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aram replies soberly. His deep voice is beginning to get a little higher in pitch as sun begins to rise. “I truly am. He was a worthy and capable companion and—as I understand now…he was one of the truest and most courageous men I know. My grief for him is nearly as strong as your own.”

Corinne touches Jason’s cheek. Softly she murmurs, “As is mine. Mianamon changed much, didn’t it?”

The implications of her words are clear as day, and Jason lifts his gaze to meet hers. She stares back steadily and warms him with her understanding. “Yeah,” Jason mumbles, briefly closing his eyes in pain. “Yeah, it did.”

He feels his skin tingle as he detects a phantom kiss brush against his lips, like the ghost of a fond memory. The smell of pine and the mint Ferrin always chewed surges through him, overloading his senses before leaving in a tranquil rush. The taste of sharp, fresh herbs is left in his mouth and a blanket of goosebumps sparks up and down his skin. It’s as if a thousand people sighed at the same time he did, because suddenly his mind clears. A small chill races down his neck and over his back before spreading through his body when eerily familiar voices whisper sweet nothings into his ears—things he cannot understand, but can feel.

He allows Aram and Corinne to help him up, but the ear never leaves his hand. In that moment, Jason makes a final solemn vow in his head, a promise sent up to Ferrin’s soul.

_I won’t ever forget you. And I won’t let anyone forget, either. You were the first one who showed me kindness and love here, and I hope I returned enough._

_And I swear that one day, Ferrin—one day I’ll see you again. Just as your word meant something to me, I can only hope that mine means something to you. You know I always keep my promises. For you. For love._

**Author's Note:**

> for the 9 or 10 people who are my family in this ship, this is for you, you beautiful rare shippers <3


End file.
